@whodoesthisprotect
Pain - an agony that consumed him - beyond articulation. Beyond anything he’d ever known before - anything his adoptive mother had ever meted out, beyond anything he could imagine. Indescribable torment and then...
Then nothingness.
Or at least, incorporeality.
He had still been aware. Still been afraid. Still been alone. And confused. ‘You can control it Credence.’ Barely. Hardly. It was dangerous. It put him in danger. ‘Wands down! Anyone who harms him - they’ll answer to me-’ Protecting him. Despite everything. Still wanting him... ‘You fools. Do you realise what you’ve done?’ Did they? Did he?
When he found form again there was the question of what to do. He could not go home - Mary Lou was dead. He could not go to the wizarding world - they thought him dead. Would want him dead. So what could he do..?
In the end - he found he didn’t have to choose.
He returned to the church - as a stepping stone - it was cold - he would need money, food, clothes... And they were there. And so was a note...
‘Credence... If this finds you before I leave New York, please know... You can find me where the magic was first made beautiful... ~G’
There was nowhere else for him to go, nowhere else to turn... And so, he went to where he thought Percival (for he still knew Grindelwald as Graves) meant - standing opposite the diner, trying to be inconspicuous, but failing miserable, staring around constantly, clearly agitated.












